


apo; a prototype

by dongyeomx



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dongyeomx/pseuds/dongyeomx
Summary: an apocalypse was in the cards, even without the zombies; but they definitely helped to stir things up
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

_April is the cruellest month._ Ironically, because it should be the beginning of an easier time; warmer temperatures, one does not need to worry about freezing to death at night, or wandering off somewhere unsafe after dark.

But all the sunshine, animals leaving their winter hide-outs, flowers sprouting through the cold ground – or snow, in some areas – seem to be almost a laugh in one’s face.

A reminder that this pathetic joke of a world still works. The cycle of nature continues, even after the fall of pretty much everything else. It's beautiful and painful at the same time.

Every spring since the end of the world is bitter-sweet to Jisung.

He can’t sleep tonight. Overthinking might be just the thing that finally kills him, not even the zombies. It angers him, and there’s not much he can do to release the tension, so he grabs his backpack and decides to leave early. Initially, he wanted to wait until the morning, then go snoop around the town he’s currently passing by. Some towns are occupied by other survivors, but a few times he managed to stuck up on a lot of useful things in places that seemed to have been forgotten by the world.

This time, Jisung feels like an idiot. Maybe he simply _is_ an idiot, because _yet again_ he had not listened to his own gut and went out during the night. Without a working flashlight, knowing the risk, and how many of those have been roaming around. But then again, does he ever listen to his own gut?

_And why are so many zombies out and about lately?_ He wonders, but he doesn’t know. Maybe he’s spent too much time hiding in solitude to know how the infected behave in the cities.

He sees two of them just walking around. They seem to pay zero attention to the world around them, so Jisung decided to just take it at face value.

It’s too late to back out now; chances that he stumbles upon someone on his way back to his hiding spot as well are pretty much 50:50, so he just proceeds, hoping for the best, as always. And he’s done it many times.

Despite the time of year, this night is still pretty chilly. Jisung rubs his stiff hands together as he crouches behind a big, wooden box standing against the wall. If he were to stay here, it could serve as material for a nice bonfire to keep him warm. But he doesn’t plan on doing that, so he quickly brushes off that thought.

He focuses on the sounds around him, but apart from wind blowing through the branches of the trees surrounding the town, he doesn’t hear anything.

In this case it’s a good sign. No infected in the nearest surroundings.

Jisung exhales, adjusts his hood so that he remains more or less covered and jumps onto the box. He makes sure not to make any noise when hooking his arms on the concrete fence, sliding over it and lowering himself down on the other side.

There is nothing to cushion his fall, so he ends up making a noise. The town looks pretty dead, though, especially at this time of day, so it does not worry him much.

He slowly walks into one of the alleys.

He’s cautious, because he feels vulnerable. He’s used to being alone, it’s not about it; it’s just that these days he prefers to stay in the countryside. Cities and towns bring back bad memories. And things he had to do to survive back then, when all hell broke loose.

It made him learn that the words _human_ and _humane_ don’t always go together.

Apart from that, city people use guns. Although he does have a gun, there are at least two good reasons why that is not enough. Firstly, he does not have any ammo; secondly – and probably most importantly – he’s shot a gun one too many times in his life.

When dealing with zombies (who, as he now knows well, are sensitive to sounds) shooting may not be the best idea, anyway, but it works just fine on humans. Regardless, he has successfully avoided using them in the last two years, and he hopes he’s be able to go on without having to pull the trigger on anything alive.

Nevertheless, he always carries one. It’s good to have something for trade; who knows, it might even save a life.

Jisung snoops around for a while, peeking through broken windows and searching through a few easily-accessible buildings, but they seem to have been wiped clean of anything useful. Fair enough, many survivors must have come here before him.

He gives up on searching for anything useful and decides to just make it through the city.

The street is not very wide, which makes Jisung feel claustrophobic, but somehow also a bit safer.

He tries to approach each new element of the surroundings with maximum caution, never turning his back towards the unknown.

He walks with his knife in his right hand, while his left hand remains unoccupied, hovering cautiously in front of him.

The walls of buildings are either grey and depressing or covered in moss, some also severely cracked.

He sighs. He’s so tired of constantly watching his steps. That’s what life is, and might always be, but whenever this thought decides to haunt him, he tries to push it away as far as possible. If that’s what life is, he doesn’t think he’ll last too long.

He snaps back to reality. It seems like the alley is coming to an end, with more and more greenery around him, signalling that he might be getting close to some kind of a park.

But being trapped between tall buildings, Jisung can’t see shit anymore, since the moonlight doesn’t reach here.

He hears something. Maybe a passing cat? He hopes it’s just that. It did not sound like a _walker_ , they don’t move so fast.

It might just be his mind playing tricks on him because of the lack of sleep.

Jisung hasn’t been sleeping properly lately. He can’t allow himself such pleasures; he always has to keep his guard up when spending nights alone. That precaution has saved his life a few times before.

He turns his head to check whether the coast behind him is clear. It seems to be.

He turns back around, there’s also nothing. Still, the uncertainty makes Jisung’s heart pump faster and faster with every step he takes.

He just knows something is wrong. And he quickly finds out why, as he feels something cold and sharp against his throat, and a strong force grabbing him from the back and dragging towards a wall. He flinches, his insides tying into a knot. Luckily, he doesn’t let out a scream. That would make things even worse in terms of the walkers – and there’s nobody around to rescue him anyway. Neither from the guy, nor the walkers.

Having been shoved face first into a scratchy wall, Jisung can’t say the person is being particularly gentle. He feels somebody’s knee pressing against his legs, keeping him in place. The stranger moves right next to his right ear, breathing down Jisung’s neck.

‘Let me fucking go!’ Jisung let’s out aggressively, but trying to mute his voice as much as possible.

He’s trying to break away from the guy’s firm grip, but his opponent only pushes him harder and bashes into him, hurting his ribs.

Jisung grunts and coughs, having trouble to breathe. He hopes none of his ribs got broken, but the pain suggests otherwise.

The guy doesn’t let go. ‘You think I won’t kill an idiot like you? Hand me your knife. Slowly. And don’t try to outsmart me. You have one against your throat.’

Jisung dreaded running across another human, but it happened. He tries to calculate all the possible outcomes of the situation. Kicking him in the balls and running for his life seems pretty doable, but then again, one swipe on his neck and he’s gone.

_I’m a fast runner, but I don’t know the area, and he does –_

And the knife is sharp. He already feels the edge digging into his skin dangerously.

One unexpected move on Jisung’s part and the knife would basically do the job itself without the guy even moving his hand. And that would be a pathetic way to die.

Jisung doesn’t want to die like that. And not just yet.

So he decides his only option is to play along.

He lets out his breath heavily – which hurts – and does what he’s told.

The guy takes his knife, their hands brushing briefly. His hands are way colder than Jisung’s.

‘Now, who are you with, and where are they?’

His voice is a little croaky, but otherwise very melodic. In some other circumstances Jisung would have even thought of it as a bit _sensual_ , but this particular kind of whispering into someone’s ear has different connotations. It makes Jisung’s skin crawl.

‘I’m Jisung, I’m alone,’ he blurts out, having trouble pronouncing his words with his cheek pressed against the wall. He doesn’t know why his name would be relevant, but he can’t think clearly right now and that’s the best he could have come up with.

The guy scoffs. ‘Mhm sure, so you probably wandered all the way to my territory just to ask me out on a date, huh?’

As he emphasized the last word, he lets go of Jisung just to push him into the wall again, this time a bit harder.

Jisung winces and lets out another grunt. After a moment of gathering strength to use his lungs again, he speaks. ‘I’m serious. I’m just passing by, I had no clue it was your territory. Who are _you_?’

The guy lets out a muted, throaty laugh. ‘You’re the one asking questions now?’

Jisung feels the blade being pressed a little bit harder against his neck. He gulps uncontrollably.

‘You’re just wandering here alone in the middle of the night? Are you hearing yourself?’ The guy starts to sound more and more harsh. He’s annoyed. The realization makes Jisung grow progressively anxious.

‘I swear I’m alone. I just wanted to search this shithole for something useful, that’s all.’

There is a moment of silence and hesitation. Jisung waits. The man sighs and finally speaks again. ‘Listen, I’m not in the mood for slitting throats right now. You’ll come with me. I have some more questions, but I’ll ask them somewhere safer.’

_Safer for who? Me or you?_

Jisung doesn’t say it out loud. He doesn’t want to die just yet, so he keeps his mouth shut.

The guy lets go of his head, and with his free hand he puts a blindfold on Jisung’s eyes. ‘Privacy reasons.’

Yet again, he doesn’t comment.

His ‘kidnapper’ turns them around a few times just to mess with his sense of direction and eventually starts walking. He keeps blindfolded Jisung in front of him at knifepoint throughout their journey.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Take it off,’ he hears once he’s been seated on some chair. Just a minute beforehand the guy took off his backpack – very forcefully – and searched through its contents.

Jisung wasn’t too nervous about it, because to be frank, there was nothing suspicious in there. Apart from the gun, there was only a map of the area, some food and his first first-aid kit that he always carries with him. The rest of his stuff is hidden safely outside the city.

When Jisung’s blindfold is finally off – and considering the handcuffs (and ankle cuffs) that the guy has put on him in the meantime, it wasn’t easy – he gives the room a quick look.

The first thing he notices are bars.

As in, prison bars. Having looked around a bit more, the area looked kind of like a police station – one that hasn’t been used by the police in a while.

The “cell” looks very rundown – grey, unpainted walls, no furniture, cracks all over. It doesn’t necessarily give off a “safer” vibe, especially now since he’s there one-on-one with the guy.

Speaking of the devil, he’s currently standing across the room, leaning against the bars.

He looks scary, but also slightly bizarre. Dressed like a SWAT soldier, he’s wearing an all-black uniform and combat boots, face from eyes down disguised with a black bandana.

His dark hair is trimmed short, especially on the sides.

And his sharp, wary black eyes don’t look any less intimidating. They’re currently piercing through him.

The guy suddenly speaks up. ‘So can you tell me, _Jisung_ , what brings you to Miryang?’

A slight shiver runs down his spine. He didn’t expect to hear his name all of the sudden. He didn’t expect the guy to even really remember his name, since he kind of laughed it off earlier.

‘Nothing in particular,' he answers calmly.

The guy furrows his eyebrows. ‘You’re so petty, straight to my face. Bold choice.’

Jisung scoffs.

The guy clenches his fists, his eyes widening at the response. He pushes himself off the bars and walks over to Jisung. He grabs his sweatshirt and pulls towards himself.

Jisung hisses because of the sudden movement of his chest, causing a sharp, piercing pain.

The guy narrows his eyes. He doesn’t speak, but Jisung knows he’s furious.

Jisung hears the sound of steps approaching.

The guy keeps his eyes on Jisung to the very last second until the other person arrives.

It’s another guy – this one also dressed like a soldier, in a khaki combat outfit. He looks way scarier than the first guy. ‘Ulala, so you were right, Min. Hello there-’ he addresses Jisung, saluting to him with two fingers.

Jisung freezes, at first giving the smiling guy no reaction, but eventually nodding.

The SWAT guy sighs. ‘And he’s stubborn.’ He lets go of Jisung’s hoodie and walks towards the bars again.

The newly arrived guy – shorter than… _Min,_ or whatever his name is – chuckles. ‘Oh really? Do you want me to talk to him? I’m sure we’ll get along.’

The guy bites his cheek, thinking for a moment.

Jisung doesn’t like where this is going, but whatever might happen to him because of his lack of cooperation, he doesn’t want to tell these two anything. He is just fine living on his own, without having to deal with other people’s bullshit. And he would know, he’s tried that before.

And besides, for what he knows, these two look like trouble.

The guy finally looks at him again. Warily. He speaks, not looking away even for a moment. ‘It’s fine Bin, don’t waste your breath. A few days without food and he’ll come around.’

Jisung’s brows furrow at his words, and apparently the Khaki guy reacts similarly.

‘You’re keeping him? What if his friends want to rescue him? I really don’t feel like fighting, cmon-‘

‘Chillout, we’re not fighting anyone.’ He answers with a hint of confidence in his voice.

‘How can you be so sure? Maybe he’s smarter than you think-’

Jisung furrows his eyebrows even further at the remark.

‘Yeah, so far he seems pretty fucking sly,’ he comments, giving Jisung a quick glare. ‘It doesn’t make much sense for him to wander off alone, but he seems genuine. His body language-‘

The other boy starts laughing. ‘Oh, not this again. I’m gonna lose my mind.’

The Min guy cracks a smile as well. ‘Exactly what a manipulator like you would say.’

‘HA!’ The khaki guy lets out a throaty laugh. ‘You’re gonna bring me to an early grave, won’t you, Min.’

‘If I’m lucky,’ the other bites back.

Jisung is watching the scene from across the room. He doesn’t understand what’s going on at all. All his brain registered is that he’s suddenly become a prisoner. At least for the time being, before he figures out a way to escape and never come back to this cursed town.

‘You can take that thing off, by the way,’ says the khaki guy, motioning to the bandana on Min’s face. ‘Your face is scary as it is, I bet poor boy is as intimidated as he possibly could.’

Min glares at him. ‘I’m gonna ignore that last comment. And he doesn’t seem as intimidated as he should…’

‘It usually works, so he must be a tough cookie. I like that,’ says Bin.

Minho just sighs in response. He stays quiet for a moment, his face showing signs of worry. ‘Maybe I should have just killed him. What if he’s so aggressive because he’s bitten?’

Bin turns to Jisung. ‘Okay then, interrogation time. Have you had any contact with the stiffs in the last couple of days?’

Jisung furrows his eyebrows. _Stiffs_ , meaning the infected. ‘No.’

‘See, Min?’ The guy turns back to his friend.

‘And you’re just gonna take his word for it?’

‘I don’t know, you’re the expert on body language here,’ Bin laughs, almost sarcastically.

‘Ughhh, you’re so annoying,’ says Min.

‘Than strip him naked and see for yourself,’ replies Bin, a sly smile not leaving his face.

Jisung furrows his eyebrows and immediately straightens his legs, as if he’s ready to kick. ‘No fucking way.’

Bin laughs and turns to his friend. ‘He’s a shy boy, let’s leave him be. If he turns, we’ll know. And we’ll do what we have to.’

Min nods his head hesitantly, lowering his head as if he's embarrassed.

Jisung is just sitting there, slightly annoyed at how they’ve been talking about him like he isn’t there.

Khaki guy takes a few steps, simply observing Jisung. He eventually squats and squints his eyes at the sight. ‘What’s up with the cut on his throat?’

Jisung _does_ feel in a way like there's a deep paper cut right across his throat, but all the adrenaline in his body has made him forget about the pain for the time being. Same goes for the bigger source of his pain, located in his chest.

His _kidnapper_ clears his throat. ‘He’ll be fine.’

The other sighs and gets up from his knees. ‘I’m gonna get an aid-kit-‘

‘No,’ he stops him. _A bit too harshly for Jisung’s liking_. It’s just a cut, come on.’

‘…On the throat. I don’t want him to bleed out on our floor, okay?’

Min grits his teeth. ‘No need to waste our stuff, though. He has his own in his backpack.’

Khaki guy scoffs and rolls his eyes. ‘Jeez. Fine.’ He then reaches for it.

Min stays quiet for a while, looking at his friend crouching next to Jisung. He looks progressively more and more troubled. As Jisung hisses when the other guy applies pressure to stop the bleeding, Min speaks up again, this time addressing Jisung.

‘Don’t even think I’m letting you go without making sure you’re not gonna cause trouble,’ he declares harshly. ‘We’re staying in the city for a few more days. After that you can do whatever the hell you want. Sounds good?’ The guy pushes himself up from the leaning position. ‘Actually, don’t even answer. Lock him, Bin. And if he tries something, aim for the chest. It'll keep him in place.’

He walks away before Jisung can even react to anything that has just happened. _What a fucking psycho._

The khaki guy, or Bin, sees his friend to the door, and sighs. He looks back at Jisung, who’s currently sitting on a chair in the middle of an empty cell with a gaze stuck to his throat, unable to move.

Now that he spent some time with him, the khaki guy doesn’t seem all that scary at all, despite his sharp features. He smiles a lot, which is a rare sight these days.

'What's up with your chest? I've noticed your breathing is kinda shallow, but I figured it's stress. He didn't stab you, right...'

Jisung exhales, finding the question somewhat funny. 'No. It's nothing.'

Bin seems unsure, but doesn't push the topic. ‘Sorry buddy,’ he sounds semi-apologetically, semi-amused. ‘Don’t mind him, he’s a grumpy bastard, but you probably won’t see him too much. He doesn’t like talking to strangers unless he has to. And remember you can make it stop anytime. If you feel like revealing what you’re up to, just call for us.’

‘I don’t have anything to reveal, though,’ pleads Jisung. He figured, that maybe it will work better if he’s nice, at least to this guy. ‘Can’t you just let me go if I just leave the town immediately? I don’t want to get in your way at all.’

‘We have our reasons,’ he answers with a firm persistence, shaking his head.’ But you’ll endure our little test no problem. Now let me help you out with this.’

Jisung cooperates. He sits still through the process, even through the part when the cut burns like hell when the guy pours water over it. He uses Jisung’s spare t-shirt from his backpack as a towel, but some of the water – and blood – soaks through Jisung’s clothes anyway.

‘What was your name again?’ The boy speaks up. ‘Actually, I’m not sure if you even said it-‘

‘Jisung. Yours?’

Jisung remembers him being referred to as Bin, but asks anyway. If he’s about to spend some time around these people, he might as well find some potential allies. And his kidnapper definitely won’t do.

‘Changbin,’ he answers as he puts a newly prepared ointment on Jisung’s throat. ‘Or just Bin. That dick from earlier was Minho. There’s also a few others, I guess. You won’t meet all of them, though. And those that you will should not bother you too much.’

Jisung sighs and nods his head. ‘You’re being really nice, even considering _this_.’ He says, as he holds up his wrists enclosed by a metal contraption.

‘Yeah. At first I was skeptical, because we’re kinda in the middle of something right now, and I’m sick of being in trouble all the fucking time, you know?’

Jisung knows. He just nods, and the other continues.

‘But all in all, since there’s still so much to do, you being here is kinda fun. It gets lonely, you know, since the word has ended, so I’m glad to be able to talk to someone new.’

Jisung nods again. He could write a book about loneliness, if only there were enough people left to read it. ‘Tell me about it. At least you’ve got your friends. Even that…’

Jisung tightened his lips, stopping himself before he says something he might regret.

‘Yeah,’ he laughs in response. ‘I got you.’

Jisung smiles at him, even though the skin on his throat really starts to pull.

‘Minho’s a good friend. The best, even.' Changbin lowers his head, still smiling faintly, but it’s somewhat gloomy. 'Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this…’

‘Does that matter why?’ Jisung replies. He suddenly feels very dejected. ‘I’m not gonna gossip, you know, the infected wouldn’t be interested in what you guys are up to anyway.’

Changbin cackles loudly, which causes his tough expression to soften.

‘I guess you’re right. I’m just paranoid. But who isn’t these days? I imagine you must be feeling pretty weird about all this, too.’

Jisung bites his lip. _Weird_ is not strong enough of a word. He knows a lot about life in captivity and not being able to decide for yourself. It sucks. Now that he tasted his independence, he doesn’t want to give it up.

Leaning his back against the wooden chair, Jisung hisses from pain in his rib-cage. The prospect of spending even one night in this hell of a room doesn’t sound particularly exciting.

The silence elongates, and Changbin starts getting up from the floor on which he was seated. 'Right, I should shut up and go. Remember though –‘ he stops and turns to face Jisung. ‘We do patrols pretty much 24/7. If we find anyone who might be one of yours, it’s over for you. We have our rules here, and we don’t tolerate lies. You get it, right?’

‘I do. There’s no one to find, though.’

Although he looks kind of mixed up, Changbin nods.

He was supposed to go, but a few minutes later he sneaks up back to Jisung’s cell with a small pillow and some rug-looking piece of material, that ends up serving Jisung as a bedding. 

His chest hurts like hell, but it's not like he can do anything about it.

He doesn’t have anything to cover himself with - since his spare shirt got all wet - and around morning hours it gets _cold_ cold.

Jisung is shivering. His teeth clank together, but he endures. As always.


	3. Chapter 3

‘Who brought this?’ is the first thing Jisung hears in the morning.

He can’t say he’s well rested, as he slowly tries to force his eyes to open.

There is Minho standing on the other side of the bars, looking at him with a tired expression.

It takes Jisung a sweet second to understand what he means, but he’s not sure if he should rat Changbin out.

‘Oh, good morning to you, too,’ he says.

The other raises his eyebrows, looking as if he were to say something in response to Jisung’s bravado first thing in the morning, but he grits his teeth together for a moment, before he speaks again.

‘No one takes me seriously, I swear to God…’ he comments, as he massages the space between his eyebrows, his head hanging low.

Jisung smiles, for some reason proud of himself.

Stretching his arms, he slowly sits up to a vertical position,

The movement causes a flare of pain to go through his body, making the smile disappear from his face. He seriously needs to keep in mind that his ribs might be smashed, he’s pushing it.

Having collected himself, Jisung sniffles and looks up at Minho.

Apparently, it was his turn to push it now. ‘Anyhow, since the _princess_ has finally woken up – we’re heading out.’

The word _princess_ rings in his ears. He certainly hasn’t heard that word used to describe him before. He knows this guy is just trying to annoy him, but hearing those words from him makes Jisung feel weirder than anything he’s been called before.

‘… _We_?’ He eventually asks, hesitantly.

The other takes a second, then snorts quietly. ‘Not you, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Jisung sighs. ‘Where to?’

‘We’ve got some business to take care of,’ he says, as he adjusts the black t-shirt tucked into his pants and a silver necklace hanging around his neck, the pendant of which rests on his chest. ‘If someone wants to come and save you while we’re gone, I guess that’s their chance. Alternatively, If any walkers decide to come in to say hi, stay behind those bars, you should be fine.’

Jisung stares at him and says nothing. What is there to say? The guy clearly doesn’t care what happens to him, so he just zips his lips together as he puts his arms around his knees.

Minho seems like he expected to hear a response. Like he wanted to bicker with him and to proudly win the discussion. But Jisung doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Minho eventually gives up on waiting for it, and his face falls a little bit. His eyes wonder downwards from Jisung’s face and onto the bandage on his neck. His features sharpen for a moment, almost as if he felt something from looking at it.

Soon after his face softens again, and he speaks. ‘Even If you don’t want to talk, I have one last thing I’ve been wondering. About this…’

He pulls out Jisung’s knife from his front pocket. The one that he handed to him the day before. It’s currently hidden in some kind of a leather cover, but Jisung recognises the handle right away.

‘Where did you get it from?’ Minho asks, as he takes it out.

He’s turning the knife between his fingers. The metal catches the rays of sun coming from the corridor and reflects a purple-y blue-ish hue.

Jisung sighs. That’s a long story.

‘It a gift from someone,’ Jisung explains calmly. Or lies, but he's good at sounding convincing.

Minho tilts his head. ‘And where did that person get it from?’

‘Don’t you know how gifts work? And why do you even care?’ Jisung tilts his head the same way. Their eyes meet for a moment, and the guy tilts his head straight immediately.

He clears his throat and puts the knife back in the cover, and then into his pocket, his eyes avoiding Jisung’s. ‘It’s just really pretty. That’s why.’

Jisung didn’t expect to hear that.

For some reason, that simple sentence made Minho seem a bit…. Vulnerable? Just yesterday he acted like he was the scariest guy in the world, dressed in all black and shooting daggers with his eyes. Cold, indifferent.

But what he said just now made Jisung feel like there’s more to it.

‘Don’t get too used to it, I’m getting it back. Even if I had to kill you to get it,’ says Jisung, looking Minho straight in the eyes.

Minho stares back at him, until he clears his throat. ‘You can have your knife once we’ll be parting ways. But… are people’s lives that worthless to you?’

Jisung scoffs. ‘Pfft, like you don’t regret not killing me just yesterday.’

‘I don’t regret it,’ Minho answers, and sounds somewhat sincere. ‘I regret ever having done any harm. But I do harm, every day. But never for selfish reasons. I’m just protecting my people.’

‘They’re gonna turn their backs on you the moment you stop being convenient, you realize that, Prince Charming?’

Minho clenches his jaw, giving him an empty look. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, so shut your mouth.’

‘Oh, I know too well,’ Jisung bites back. ‘Whatever, you do you.’

Minho sighs and a silence falls between them, which after a moment is broken by the arrival of Changbin.

‘Min? We’re waiting. Innie has already started singing out of boredom, it’s bad. Please come.’

Minho exhales, as the corners of his lips tug into a subtle smile. ‘I’m coming,’ he replies rather softly.

‘Hey,’ Jisung speaks up, making both of them turn their heads towards him. ‘Uhh, before you leave, I kinda need to use the bathroom…’

Minho and Changbin exchange looks.

‘What now, chief?’ Asks Changbin, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Minho groans, closing his eyes for a moment before addressing his friend with a begging expression. ‘Help me take him to the bathroom.’

‘Uh-oh. You do you Minho, but I’m not watching another dude pee. It’s your prisoner, anyway,’ Changbin shrugs his shoulders.

‘You’ve seen many dudes pee, among other things, let me remind you’ Minho rolls his eyes and shakes his head at his friend.

Changbin gasps dramatically. ‘You did not have to do this. I’ve blocked out some of it…,’ he says, as he furrows his eyebrows and rubs the space between them.

Minho pushes his shoulder to stop him from talking. ‘Jesus Christ. Then watch over him for a moment.’

Changbin smiles. ‘Off you go. My pleasure, he’s a way better alternative than Innie in his trot mood,’ he says, motioning at Jisung with his head.

Minho smiles and turns around. A few seconds later he is already out of Jisung’s line of sight.

Changbin turns his eyes to him. ‘Your bandage soaked through a little bit. How’s your throat today?’

‘Well, still cut, that’s for sure. It pulls when I move my head, but otherwise it’s fine.’

Changbin, wearing his khaki pants yet again, nods. ‘We don’t really have time right now, but I’ll change the bandage when we’re back, ‘kay?’

Jisung nods back. ‘Thanks.’

Changbin hums in response.

In the background he hears the sound of a toilet flushing. They wait in silence for Minho to get back.

Eventually he comes out, drying his hands into his t-shirt.

‘Now you take care of him, I’ll be outside. If you find Innie dead, remember that was self-defense,’ he winks at Minho, then turns to Jisung. ‘See you later!’

Jisung waves at him – to a degree he can with his hands in cuffs.

Minho shakes his head with disapproval. He looks at Jisung, his eyes narrowed. ‘How come you get along with Changbin so well? You remember the part about him being one of your enemies, right?’

‘Yes,’ Jisung nods. ‘But he’s being nice about it. Why wouldn’t I be nice back?’

Minho falls silent for a moment, looking at him as if he doesn’t get it. ‘Did your parents never taught you to be careful with strangers?’ He scoffs. ‘Bet you’d be the first kid to take sweets from a creepy old guy. Or I don’t know, get your drink spiked at the bar.’

Jisung grits his teeth. Who does this dude think he is?

He fell victim to unspeakable things before, but not like that. He knows Minho only refers to how things were before the world went to hell. Going out. Meeting people. Not worrying about food, drinking water or not getting shot.

‘Never happened before. Do you think someone would want to spike me?’ He looks down at himself and back at Minho. Jisung knows he’s small for a guy, but a guy nevertheless. And not even that attractive. Not your typical heartthrob, not your typical victim at the club.

The boy mirrors Jisung’s action unconsciously and tilts his head, as he turns away his gaze. ‘Actually, I do. Girls have it worse, for sure, but if a boy is gullible and pretty–’

Minho stops talking as if his throat got burned by his own words. ‘Forget it. Let’s go.’

Jisung stares at him, like he just told him something completely unbelievable. Well, it kind of is the case.

 _Pretty._ Indirectly, but still.

Minho seems to not believe it, either. He’s avoiding Jisung’s eyes like his life depends on it.

Jisung stops staring at Minho’s side-profile, because he knows the boy won’t meet his gaze anyway. ‘Why did you go ahead?’ He asks, as Minho unlocks the door with a key he took out from his back pocket.

He furrows his eyebrows. ‘…Because I needed to pee before we leave. And I’m not letting you choke me out while my dick is out.’

Jisung bites his lip. One moment Minho’s all shy and withdrawn, another he’s so forward, saying stuff… like that.

He wants to give him the taste of his own medicine.

‘You’re not into that, noted,’ he replies, nodding his head, his lips pursing.

Minho freezes. He remains silent for a while, staring at the floor, like it’s suddenly much more interesting than the conversation.

_He does it again. Pushes, then pulls._

Or maybe Jisung is just imagining it? Might as well be bro-talk, he’s heard it plenty of times in high-school.

Minho stands by the door, waiting.

Jisung sighs, knowing what’s coming. He puts his hands on the floor on one side of his body and tries to push himself up. Never before has he wondered how it feels to have several bones dig into one's lungs, but now he knows. He coughs and instead of standing up, he falls on all fours.

Minho moves towards him immediately, but Jisung stops him by raising his shaking palm. He listens.

Minho waits patiently without making a comment. Jisung breath is shallow again, but the damage has been done and he needs to calm down to proceed.

Once Jisung manages to stand up and joins him in the corridor, Minho grabs him by the arm and leads him through the hall. Jisung notices that they are almost the same height, with Minho being a tiny bit taller. And stronger.

Minho leads him to a room nearby. It’s covered in white tiles, kind of resembling a high-school bathroom, but the kind with just one stall. It is pretty much how he would imagine a police station bathroom to look like. But then again, he was too good of a kid growing up to even get to see one in real life.

‘Go in and don’t close the door all the way. You have a minute.’

Jisung furrows his eyebrows. ‘Don’t give me a time limit, I can’t pee when I’m stressed.’

Minho gives him a puzzled look. ‘Sorry for the inconvenience, but I don’t have time for some dude meditating before peeing. If I were you, I’d appreciate me even doing this instead of letting you pee your pants. Do you want me to help you?’ His tone is angry again, just like last night.

‘No, thank you,’ Jisung blurts out, cringing at the prospect of however that help would look like. ‘It’s just awkward to pee in front of someone in silence. Could you like…’ He avoids his eyes as he’s trying to think of something. ‘I don’t know, whistle?’

He bites the inside of his cheek and raises his eyes shyly to see the other’s reaction.

Minho’s eyes widen at the question. ‘….Are you fucking serious?’ He scoffs, his eyes almost rolling in disbelief.

_Okay, so the answer is no._

Jisung’s shoulders drop at the response.

He does as he’s told – leaves the door slightly open, then turns around and begins to unbuckle his pants. Because his movements are limited, it takes longer than it usually would.

And the buckle makes a lot of noise.

Jisung feels really awkward. The situation is very bizarre.

It happened to him before – pretty much every time he had to use a public restroom in a mall or a busy restaurant; before the world ended, that is. Men’s bathrooms were generally less occupied than women’s, but the pressure of having to do your business quickly, before it becomes _weird,_ was still always there _._

And having to do it in front of his kidnapper in a complete silence adds another level of difficulty.

Jisung squints his eyes. He’s _ready_ , but he can’t really do it.

The silence in the room elongates for what it feels like eternity, before he hears a gentle sigh. And a whistle.

A melody starts echoing through the room. Of course, bathrooms always have good acoustics.

Jisung is taken aback. Minho actually listened.

He can’t stop himself from smiling. He can’t recognize any specific song, but the melody is nice. Calming.

It does the trick. Jisung pees, and Minho can definitely hear it despite the whistling, but it doesn’t matter.

On a psychological level, it helped Jisung calm his nerves and overcome the awkwardness. In a way he does feel ashamed, that Minho might think he’s acting like a child, but he tries to brush off that thought.

 _Why would he care? It’s ridiculous._ Minho is a literal stranger. Once they part in a few days, they’re never going to see each other again. His opinion on Jisung simply doesn’t matter.

When Jisung is done and slowly opens the door, Minho is leaning against the wall, invested in the melody he’s creating.

When their eyes meet, he stops.

‘What song was that?’

Minho clears his throat. ‘I was just making it up on the spot.’

‘Mmm,’ he hums in response. ‘In your next life you should become a songwriter.’

Minho exhales, the corner of his lips raising. If Jisung wasn’t paying attention, he might have missed it.

Jisung takes the opportunity to walk by the sink and wash his hands. Then he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looks… rough, to say the least.

His dark hair looks all disheveled and tangled; it’s _too_ long now, but he hasn’t had a chance to cut it in a while.

Then he remembers there’s something he should probably worry more about, the cut on his throat, for example.

It’s good luck it hasn’t become infected. At least yet.

The dried blood appears more brown that red at this point. The fact that the bandage is stuck to the wound makes Jisung fear the time when Changbin comes to change it in the evening, but they’ll cross that bridge when they get there.

He catches Minho’s eyes in the mirror. His face looks tense, as if he were clenching his jaw. Jisung noticed he does that a lot. People’s neutral expression is usually relaxed and kind of blank, but when it comes to Minho, he’d say it works in the opposite way – among all his frowns, sometimes you could catch him seem relaxed. But apart from when he jokes around with Changbin, it’s been a rare sight so far.

Jisung turns around, because Minho looks progressively more impatient.

The boy grabs Jisung’s arm again and guides him back to his cell.

Jisung’s thinking again. They’re one on one, Jisung could probably hit him in the head with his elbow and put his fast running to a good use. But then he remembers that any sudden movement can probably make him pass out from the pain. Jisung sighs, as he’s stepping back into his cell. He misses the days when he did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. If it was two or three years ago he would have bailed long ago. These days he's not as daring and brave as he used to be.

Minho closes the door behind him and locks it. ‘Enough of this. Now you’ll have a whole day to think about what to tell me when I come ask you some questions later. Might not be this nice any longer.’

‘You’re a softie. Don’t try to sound scary.’

Minho clenches up again.

Having seated himself on his ‘bed’, Jisung sends him a tired look. ‘I’m telling you, I’m not your enemy.’

Minho squints his eyes. ‘Everyone’s an enemy. Better learn than sooner than later, kid.’

He puts the key into the pocket of his combat pants and walks away without looking back.

Jisung watches his back when he leaves, brows furrowed. ‘Who the fuck did you just call a kid?’

 _Who does he think he is_? And he knows he didn’t mean his age, because he’s probably barely older.

He meant that he behaves like one. That he’s gullible. Weak.

That guy doesn’t know shit about him, what his life was like. _Fucking know-it-all._

Jisung realizes that he hasn’t even noticed how quiet it got since Minho left.

The whole building seems to be empty. It’s just Jisung, sitting in silence and gritting his teeth.

He hasn’t been this angry for a while. He has a lot of unresolved tension within him at all times, and situations like this one make him loose it. Jisung’s body shivers. He doesn’t want to think anymore, about this guy, or any of this.

He slowly lies down and stares at the cracked ceiling.

The floor is cold, and the thin blanket doesn’t help too much. He turns to lay on his side so that a smaller part of his body is in direct contact with the cold surface and brings his knees to his chest, hugging his legs for warmth.

He wants to hide and clam up, but at the same time to pour his heart out, complain, cry. But he can’t.

He was never that sociable, but he misses the feeling of having someone beside him. Even the friends who weren’t always acting in his best interest. Maybe Minho was right, and treating other people like enemies is the unavoidable default these days.

Changbin is nice, though, he noticed that from the start. He’s different. Jisung doesn’t like to admit it, but he can’t wait until he drops by later.

His mind drifts off to the group. He wonders what they’re up to right now. It’s not like there are skyscrapers or stadiums to explore. The town looks like a ruin, but there must be something worthy their attention.

His stomach growls. He thinks of his fireplace and his impressive collection of canned beans that he’s so proud of.

Soon, he won’t be trapped forever.

Born tiger won't live like a dog.


	4. Chapter 4

Jisung swears time slows down when there’s nothing to do. He doesn’t know what time it is currently, or how much of it has passed since the group left for the day. Because of the lack of windows, the concept of day and night might as well not exist. The light in the room is limited, but luckily he doesn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

But he’s bored to death.

So far he counted the amount of bars – twenty two vertical ones, and four long, horizontal ones; he has also checked the measurements of the cell and calculated that it is around 12 square meters big, and that the ceiling has three major cracks, one of them directly over his head.

Perfect.

He had also tried all the mind games that he could think of, that can be played by one.

He started with word chains.

He wanted to keep track of the rounds, but he gave that up rather quickly. Playing by himself gave him the advantage of being able to start over every time he got stuck.

_Being-gone-elongates-sickness-sucks-so-… what the hell starts with an ‘o’?_

He also gave up trying to make it grammatically correct, or for it to make sense.

His next game of choice was naming countries, cities, animals and plants starting with each name of the alphabet.

One of his favorite things to do back in the day used be watching NatGeo documentaries, so he’d say he’s pretty good. If here were playing against someone, it would have been an easy win. He wishes he had someone to play with right now.

When his head eventually starts to hurt from all the concentrating, he tries to get some sleep.

He naps, wakes up, naps again.

After what seems like hours later, he’s awoken by the sound of the door opening.

‘I don’t know. Hopefully they won’t, let’s not worry in advance,’ he hears in the distance. That’s Minho’s voice.

He and Changbin show up in front of his cell, each holding a lantern, and in Changbin’s case also an aid-kit.

‘Hi there,’ says Changbin, smiling at him. The lights illuminate both of their faces. In a better lighting it’s noticeable how tired they look.

‘Hey,’ answers Jisung. He proceeds to sit up, but Changbin stops him mid-way.

‘Hold on, it’s going to be easier to change your bandage.’

Jisung obeys and lays down again, a whimper leaving his mouth.

They both come in and Changbin kneels beside him and starts unpacking the equipment; this time not jisung’s.

In the corner of his eyes he sees Minho, who’s standing in front of him. He’s leaning against the bars with his arms crossed on his chest, eyes focused on Jisung.

‘So… how do it go today?’ Jisung asks hesitantly.

‘Well,’ starts Changbin; he sighs and exchanges looks with Minho. ‘Worse than we thought, I guess. Locals are… hard to deal with. If it wasn’t for Minho and his diplomatic ass then we would have been in trouble,’ he chuckles.

Minho doesn’t respond. Jisung doesn’t know if he reacted at all; he can’t steal a glance because Changbin is alreally pulling on his bandage.

‘Ouch! Careful-‘

‘Shhh, I know what I’m doing. I’ve done it hundreds of times,’ Changbin replies confidently.

Jisung furrows his eyebrows. ‘What the hell are you guys doing to get injured so much?’

‘Not that much anymore. It’s just that we used to be in the military,’ Minho speaks up, unexpectedly.

‘Ohhh,’ comments Jisung, smiling and him smugly. ‘Now I see where your pushing-people-around thing comes from .’

Minho stares at him, ignoring Changbin’s chuckles.

‘Wish you were with us back then,’ says Changbin, as he’s applying some sort of an ointment on the wound. ‘It would have been much more fun.’

Jisung can’t help but smile at the comment. It’s a rare compliment coming his way, someone wanting him around. ‘Not sure if Minho would agree,’ he says, looking at the boy to see his reaction.

‘Maybe better not,’ replies the boy in question, tilting his head. ‘He would have been distracting.’

Changbin shoots him an elongated look. Jisung can’t really see what’s going on from his perspective, but when Changbin looks back at him his expression seems kind of suspicious. ‘Up for interpretation, I guess.’

Jisung squints his eyes at Changbin, who purposefully won’t meet them.

If he had a say in how to interpret those words maybe things wouldn’t go that route, but Jisung’s heart interpreted it faster than his brain, causing it to pump blood faster.

He closes his eyes for the rest of the procedure to conceal the fact that those ambiguous words affected him at all.

Changbin finishes up on the freshly applied bandage and packs up the rest of the equipment. ‘Ready, perfect. It shouldn’t bleed anymore, but it might itch. Try not to scratch it, kay?’

‘Sure, doc,’ replies Jisung.

‘Bin, can you check up on the guys, too?’ Minho addresses his friend. ‘Innie complained about this stomach ache, remember?’

‘Ahhh,’ Changbin scratches his head. ‘Right. Wish we had some chamomile tea left, but I’ll fix him some other herbs.’ He stands up and having waved at them, he leaves them alone.

Neither of them speak for a while. The room is dim, illuminated weakly by two lanterns standing by the entrance to the cell. Jisung is staring at the ceiling, but he can tell that Minho is staring at him.

Suddenly, Jisung senses movement. Minho walks towards him, standing up close to the place beside him where Changbin was changing his bandage just a moment before.

Jisung is forced to look at the boy hovering above him. He moves his head sideways so that he can meet his eyes. ‘Enjoying looking down at people?’

Minho’s lips tug into a smile. ’Only at you.’

Jisung gives him a smile that’s meant to look forced, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy Minho bickering with him.

Minho slowly lowers himself down to sit on his heels right next to him.

For a moment they’re silent again, Minho seemingly gathering thoughts. Jisung decides to speak up first. ‘I could give you some chamomile.’

Minho shoots up his eyes at him. ‘Why do you have it?’

‘If you smoke enough of it it’s pretty much like weed,’ Jisung explains, as he’s crossing his arms behind his head to support it.

Minho squints his eyes and lightly hits his side with his knee.

‘Ouch! Jeez, you could use some right now.’

‘I don’t smoke,’ says Minho. He sounds serious, but Jisung can tell he’s trying not to smile.

‘Okay, I don’t either,’ replies Jisung. ‘The truth isn’t that interesting, though. I know a thing or two about plants, and I collect the more useful ones. I don’t share anything with anyone so I’m pretty stocked.’

Minho doesn’t reply for a moment. He takes deep breaths and stares into a wall, than his eyes drop to the floor. Jisung doesn’t want to stare, but he peeks from time to time. The boy looks exhausted, and in a way kind of sad.

‘Why would you give it to us?’ He asks eventually.

Jisung bites his cheek. ‘Good question. You don’t treat me the best, do you.’

Minho shakes his head. ‘No, we don’t. I don’t.’

Jisung says nothing, so Minho continues.

‘I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,’ he says. He stops staring off into space and moves his eyes to meet Jisung’s. ‘I've been thinking…. screw this. I came here to ask you questions again, to play the good cop. But in reality, it does no good. If you have some secrets, you can keep them. I think… I believe what you said so far, anyway.’

‘…Woah,’ Jisung responds eventually. That is something he did not expect to hear. For the whole time he was convinced Minho didn’t trust him in the slightest. He seemed so stubborn to stick to his rules, which Jisung broke over and over.

‘I’m not gonna let you go before we leave, just in case, because really I need to be careful. But I’m not gonna torture you, either. There’s too much of that going on in the world already.’

Minho reaches for the back pocket of his black combat trousers and takes out a key. He looks at Jisung, signalling him to bring his wrists closer. He does so, and after a moment of struggling with the lock, Jisung’s hands are finally free.

As Jisung rotates his wrists and massages his joints, Minho brings one of his knees to his chest and rests his head on it. His black, soft fringe falls into his eyes as he leans forward. ‘I’ll cook later and bring you some.’

Jisung is licks his bottom lip unconsciously. ‘What’s on the menu, chef?’

Minho smiles softly. ‘I’m pretty confident whatever I’ll make is gonna be the best thing you had in a while.’

Jisung raises his eyebrows. ‘I like the confidence. You should be like that more often.’

‘Should I really…,’ he asks, but seemingly not expecting an answer. Suddenly his right hand starts travelling towards Jisung’s chest.

He almost jumps just when Minho’s about to touch it.

‘Calm down, I just…,’ he gulps. ‘I’ve done lots of medical practice in the army, seen a lot of broken ribs. I… wanted to see how bad I’ve hurt you the other day.’

Jisungs swallows, too, giving him a sideways look. ‘It’s not even that bad.’

Minho face falls, anyway. ‘I notice your reactions every time. I’ve tried not to feel bad, but I guess I’m a softie.’

Jisung exhales, smiling. ‘I’m glad you admit it. And, uhm, go ahead, if you want.’

Minho blinks at him a few times, and eventually proceeds. He delicately places his finger on Jisung’s chest and looks for a reaction.

‘Where does it hurt?’

‘I don’t really know. Sometimes it feels like nowhere in particular, and sometimes like everywhere.’

‘Mmm,’ he hums melodically. ‘Okay, how about…,’ he says, as he traces his finger over his lover ribs. ‘…now?’

‘So far so good,’ replies Jisung. _Is it, though?_ He knows he gave him permission to do it, but he’s not sure how he will be able to take it. And he means more than just the pain part of it.

Minho’s touch moves a bit upwards. He traces the outline of the middle part of his chest. He moves inch by inch, watching Jisung’s face closely.

‘Talk to me. How does it feel?’

‘Uhm…., I think you might be too delicate, because it doesn’t hurt that much. Just tickles.’

Minho snorts. ’Do you want me to go harder on you?’

Jisung gives him a look, his eyes squinting. ‘…You’re doing this on purpose, don’t you?’

‘Doing what?’ He replies, smiling softly.

Jisung breaks the eye-contact first. ‘I see.’

‘I’m just your doctor. Stay in character,’ he responds in an imperative manner, as he moves even further upwards. ‘Here?’

Minho’s finger moves slowly over the space below his left clavicle. It doesn’t necessarily feel broken, but so far it hurts him the most. ‘Yeah, here. It might be just hurting from the impact, right?’

‘Hmm, yeah, it might. Or…,’ he changes his tone slightly as he places his outstretched palm over the area. ‘Maybe it’s just your heart.’

Jisung stares at him blankly. ‘…What about it?’

‘I don’t know, the clues start to fall in place. This area started hurting since we’ve met. And…,’ he asks, putting on a puzzled face – ‘…why did your heart start speeding up just now?’

Jisung moves his shoulder in a harsh manner to shake Minho’s hand off himself. ‘You’re not funny.’

‘Who says I’m trying to be?’ The black haired boy smiles. ‘Okay, fine, let’s move on. How about the other side?’ He moves his hand to the area under his right clavicle and delicately applies pressure.

‘Hmm, fine. I think it’s mostly the left side that hurts.’

Minho nods. ‘Okay. The fact that you didn’t scream at any point means that none of them are broken. Is there bruising?’

Jisung shrugs his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Didn’t check.’

Minho down for a moment before speaking. ‘Do you mind me checking?’

Jisung freezes for a moment, looking straight at him. ‘Didn’t know that’s how my day is gonna go but, uhm, sure. So…’

‘Hold on, don’t move yet,’ Minho interrupts.

He goes back to a heels position, then sits up so that he’s on his knees next to Jisung. He looks at him, signalling to stay calm, while he moves back a step, so that he’s at the level of Jisung’s thighs. And then he…

...climbs over his legs, towering over him.

Jisung opens his eyes wide, looking at Minho like a curious owl. ‘Okayyy, where is this going?’

Minho keeps his palms in front of him in a calming, almost surrendering manner. He slowly sits down on Jisung’s thighs.

The boy raises his head, he can’t stay still like this. Minho’s thighs are way stronger than his, he would have trouble getting out of this position if he wanted to. But he’s not complaining so far. He only wishes Minho would move away, even five centimetres… because right know he’s almost straddling him.

‘I’m just holding your legs in place to make the sit-up easier for you,’ he explains. ‘So you don’t have to use your core and leg muscles to keep your balance.’

‘I feel like you just wanted to sit on me, but sure.’

Minho scoffs. ‘Come on, I’m a professional. Grab my hands, or my shoulders, whatever works.’

Jisung doesn’t feel like holding hands right now – not that they're clammy, or anything – so he settles for shoulders. He grabs onto Minho, glad that there’s a t-shirt separating them.

‘Try to focus on where exactly it hurts.’

He nods and slowly starts pulling himself up. Being supported like that it hurts less than usually, but hurts nevertheless. He stops when his head in almost buried in Minho’s chest. He get’s to see the pendant up close. It’s a small silver safety pin.

Jisung moves back a little, so that the distance between them is bigger and drops his arms to his sides. ‘It only hurts on the left side.’

Minho hums. ‘Let me see it, then. Can I?’

Jisung nods without looking at him. A moment later he feels his black hoodie getting pulled up. It’s his favourite one – big, comfy and very warm. He already misses it when it goes over his head and his exposed skin gets in contact with the cold air.

Minho speaks before he can process what’s happening. ‘Sorry, your hair got all messed up, let me-‘

Minho ruffles his long hair, which covers his eyes even more now. When he runs his fingers through Jisung’s hair to move it to the side, he suddenly stops.

His mouth opens slightly as he’s staring at Jisung’s forehead.

‘…You’ve got an eyebrow piercing?’

‘Ahh,’ Jisung nods, finally understanding. ‘That’s why you’re staring at my forehead like I was Harry Potter.’

Minho chuckles, his eyes moving down to his lap.

‘But... I feel like somehow my piercing is a bigger deal than that,’ Jisung squints his eyes in curiosity. He than raises his right hand to Minho’s chin and moves it up so that they face each other again. ‘Why?’

Minho hesitates, but looks up eventually. ‘You should show your forehead more.’

Jisung lets go of his chin. He knows he pushed it and made him say it, but he’s still somehow surprised by the other’s words.

Minho clears his throat. ‘Okay, now I’ll just pull your t-shirt up, no need to take it off.’

Jisung can't does as he says and soon after Jisung feels coldness of the air on his stomach and chest. He looks away to the side as Minho’s cold fingers examine his ribs.

‘Yeah, there’s a bruise all over…’

Jisung can hear a change in the tone of his voice. ‘Hey, it’s fine. I’m an enemy, remember? It’s okay to beat those up.’

Minho fixes Jisung’s shirt and looks at him. ‘Yeah, I guess I need to watch out for revenge.’

Jisung tilts his head and smiles. ‘That’s right. I’m after you.’

Minho stares at him for a while and shakes his head, as if it had just occurred to him what the hell they’re doing.

He sits up to his knees and stands up straight. He gracefully moves his leg over to the side and stands up next to the Jisung who’s still sat up, only wearing his t-shirt.

‘Examination's over,’ he says, as he’s locking Jisung in his cell. ‘Put your hoodie back on. And stay like that, I’ll bring you the food soon.’

Jisung nods.

* * *

When Minho comes back a while later, he's carrying a plate full of pasta and some red-looking sauce.

‘…Don’t tell me it’s spaghetti.’

Minho smiles as he hands him the food.

Jisung whistles. ‘It’s like Christmas in April.’

‘It would have been better with some of those spices of yours,’ says Minho.

Jisung stops chewing a big chunk of pasta that he has already stuffed in his mouth, stares at him for a moment and gulps it down his throat so that he can speak. ‘Was this whole sitting in my lap thing only to get into my spice and herb collection?’

Minho snorts. ‘And what did you think it was?’

Jisung pulls another portion of spaghetti onto his fork. ‘I don’t know, I guess I got my hopes up for nothing.’

Minho bites his cheek, staying quiet for a while as he’s fiddling with the key in his hand. ‘Eat up. And… uhm, we might be leaving the town tomorrow afternoon. So...’

Jisung looks up and nods.

Minho gives him a last look and leaves soon after.

Jisung munches on his food, his head suddenly full of various thoughts.

He'll be free tomorrow.

He'll leave this hell of a town. He'll to back to his safe place, where he can hide from the world and live his life as he pleases.

No beatings, no alliances, no forced smiles, no... Minho.

But as he looks down his bowl of spaghetti, he wonders which of his smiles were fake.

Because if he's honest with himself, most of his own weren't.


End file.
